Date: Tue, 11 Feb 2014 13:02:15 -0800
From: Zack McNaught
Subject: At the Urinal
The usual stuff: this is an erotic story involving a man and a boy. If, for
reasons legal, political, ethical or social you should not be reading this
story, I cannot be held responsible for the consequences of you doing
so. If you read it anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
Zack Mack (zackmcnaught@hotmail.com :: www.asstr.org/~zack/ :: @zackmcnaught)
At the Urinal
(M/b[10], mast, voy)
The smell of stale urine, and of disinfectant which fails to mask it. The
harsh light overhead, blinking occasionally, threatening to leave me in
darkness. I stand with my feet as wide apart as my shoulders. Both hands
are in my crotch, one holding my penis, which has shrunk with nerves, and
the other holding the jagged opening of my zip clear of the highly
sensitive skin it surrounds. I squeeze and pull at my foreskin, willing my
shaft back into life but it refuses to respond. My fingers are cold; the
whole place is cold.
The bang of the outside door. Small, light footsteps and my heart leaps
into my mouth. Please come to the urinals, please come to the
urinals. Don't go to a stall.
He comes. Oh my God. Nervously, not exactly sure, but he comes
anyway. There are four urinals, and I am at number two. If he's not
interested in looking, or if he's too nervous, he'll stop at station
four. If perhaps he is the one in a thousand, then he will come to one or
three. It's three. He stands to my right. I risk a glance across. He is
ten, or maybe eleven. Blond hair hanging shaggily off his head. Very
slender - thin, golden brown arms stick out of the arms of his t-shirt and
the legs of his shorts. Hasn't started growing yet, at least judging by his
height.
We are alone in the toilets. He has nothing to fear for being
discovered. He starts to fumble with the button and the zipper, but he;s
not really making that much of an effort, because he's
distracted. Distracted by the sight of my suddenly rampant manhood sticking
straight out as my fingers fly up and down. I feel my stomach cramp as a
mix of nerves and excitement send my muscles into spasm. He keeps watching
me, his hands still at the crotch of his shorts but now immobile. He
watches me openly, unabashedly, as I wank for him. It hits me hard and
fast, my semen splattering into the bowl of the urinal. His eyes go wide as
I come, and he is muttering to himself. I can't make out what it is he's
saying, because the blood pounding in my ears is too loud.
Guilt washes over me. I shouldn't have done that, I tell myself, even as
the last drops of semen still cling to the very end of my foreskin. He is
still watching, still fascinated as I rapidly shrink once more. It is still
half hard when I ram it back through the zip and make myself decent,
checking for stray drops of semen on my jeans. Finding none, I turn to
leave.
But a voice comes, a small, slightly desperate voice.
"Please don't go!" he says. "I can't get my zip down. can you help me? I'm
going to piss in my pants."
I can't leave him there, not like that, not to piss himself in public.
I turn back to him. He is pushing his crotch out at me. A noticeable bulge
sits behind the zip, standing straight up. Piss-hard perhaps, or is it
arousal? I kneel down and guide my shaking hands to his crotch. He's not
lying about the zip, it really is stuck, trapping a piece of fabric in its
teeth. It will be easy for me to remedy with adult strength, but I cannot
resist the chance to run my fingers over the shaft beneath, hard as a rock,
harder than ought to be possible. He gasps as my fingers touch it, even
though there are two layers of fabric between his skin and mine.
The zip comes free, and he spins immediately back to the urinal. Amber
liquid arcs up out of the tip of his erect penis to splatter into the
bowl. He sighs in relief as the stream continues unabated. Its arc drifts
downward as his erection subsides, and eventually a small hand comes up to
hold his boyhood as it returns to its flaccid state.
I stand and watch, unable to tear myself away from the sight before me. I
am hard again. He doesn't seem to mind.
"Thanks," he says, turning his head and smiling up at me. He's shaking the
last drops of his dick as he does so. It's dry now, but his hand remains,
tweaking and pulling at the foreskin. He hardens in an instant.
"I saw your dick," he says.
"Yeah, I know."
"It was hard. Do you want to see mine?"
I already have, but I nod anyway. He turns to me, his hand leaving his
crotch, pushing forward his hips, just as he had when his zip was
stuck. Now, though, there was nothing in the way of his wonderful stiff
little thing. It is pulsing with his heartbeat. Foreskin is pulled taut, a
tiny opening at its end, red inside where I can spy his glans. His head is
outlined starkly in his pale skin, skin which is criss-crossed with tiny
blue veins.
"Can I see yours again?" he asks.
I fumble with my zip, then grow frustrated, pulling open the button and
pushing my jeans to mid thigh. I am too far gone to worry about what will
happen if someone comes in. He gasps as my manhood springs out to bob fatly
in front of him. I am not large by any means, but compared to his it is a
monster.
"I want to rub mine," he says. "Are you going to rub yours too?"
I don't answer with words, but with actions. I grab my shaft, fingers and
thumb frantically flying up and down. He copies my actions, his motions
even faster, his foreskin pushed far past the end on the upstroke, and
pulled so tightly that it gleams on the reverse.
I come first, semen flying out as it hasn't done for years. It lands with
noisy splatters on the tiles between his feet. He watches it spit out,
fascinated again, as his fingers still work at full pace. He doubles over
as his orgasm hits him painfully. He gasps, then gives a high pitch moan
and shudders. He face is bright red when he lifts it to look at me, a grin
plastered across it.
"I've got to go," he says, zipping his shorts back up and turning on his
heel before I regain the ability to speak at all. I watch his round little
bottom go, and wonder what might have been had we met in different
circumstances.